


Bad Days

by WholockHobbit88



Series: Little Sherlock and John [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ABDL, Adult baby, Age Play, Daddy John, Gen, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, adult issues, baby sherlock, mentions of beating/bondage, mentions of drug abuse, self punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WholockHobbit88/pseuds/WholockHobbit88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John gets home from a business trip a day early, he's expecting to suprise his little boy. He finds instead that he is the one surprised by a secret he didnt know Sherlock had. Dismayed that Sherlock hides such a deep secret, he's intent on finding out what's behind it, even though Sherlock is relucatant to share. When the truth finally comes out John and Sherlock are able to grow even closer than they have been before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John stepped out of the cab, excitement bubbling inside him as he looked up at the sparkling stars in the sky. He was tired, tired to the bone but that wasn’t what made him so excited at the prospect of sliding into his own, warm bed. It was the thought of sharing it with Sherlock, his little boy, who he hadn’t seen in days. He had been away at a medical conference all week and he was eager to burst into 221B and surprise Sherlock. He’d misjudged the days when he had told Sherlock when he would get back, so he was arriving one day sooner than expected. Considering the apprehension Sherlock had felt when John had told him of the conference, he was sure he would be delighted to see him home sooner. 

It had been the longest absence the two had had from each other since beginning their age play together. While there was a time that John would have relished getting some time to himself without Sherlock that was not the case at all now. Sherlock and he had become so close to each other in their almost two years of age play together that they barely could stand even short periods of time apart. It had made them extremely dependent on each other but John didn’t view this as a bad thing; usually it was a very good thing to be that connected to someone else. Having to leave Sherlock alone did give John some anxiety but they had spoken on the phone multiple times a day and so John had been assured that Sherlock was alright. He could almost see the excitement on his little boy’s face when he showed up in the flat a whole day early. 

John stepped up the stairs to 221B, turning the doorknob only to find it locked. John frowned; it was very strange to find the door locked. Usually, Sherlock just left the door wide open regardless of what he was doing. Fishing out his key, John balanced his bags and unlocked the door, pushing his way in. 

“Sweetie.....I’m home!” John called out as he walked into the door. “Where’s my little boy hiding at?” He was smiling ear to ear, putting on his best ‘daddy’ voice as he dropped his bags in the living room and running down the hallway toward Sherlock’s room. He was deciding whether or not to attack him with tickles or kisses as he flung open the door and was stopped dead in his tracks. 

John had seen many terrible and alarming things in his time with Sherlock. He had seen him conducting disgusting experiments, doing many odd things with various pieces of dead bodies, not to mention in the midst of many little space made messes. But nothing prepared him for the sight he saw when he walked in the flat that night. 

Sherlock was lying on the bed, clad in nothing but a completely bursting wet (and alarmingly messy) nappy. His arms and legs were bound to the bed, a device around his head that looked like a ball gag but in the place where the ball should be was a dummy. A very severe and domineering woman stood over him, smacking him repeatedly with a paddle and telling him how bad he had been. Sherlock, whose voice was mostly muffled by the gag, was clearly sobbing into his pillow, flinching every time that the paddle hit his red and bruising skin. 

John knew his mouth was hanging open and he was mostly aware of the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears as the world closed in around him. Sherlock’s eyes came up to meet John’s for a few tense seconds before John turned and ran out of the flat. 

……..  
John stared at the cup of coffee on the table, the one he had barely touched. He hadn’t wanted it but it was late and he just couldn’t bear to go back to the flat yet. He didn’t know what to say to confront Sherlock and the possibility of not saying anything at all wasn’t an option. 

Betrayed…..that’s how he felt. It had been so upsetting, so alarming…..he didn’t know how to process it. He had felt such anger, such passion when he had seen that women beating his little boy……it wasn’t right at all. He wasn’t naïve; he knew Sherlock had asked for that. But his first instinct had been to wrench the paddle out of the woman’s hands and tear off the bounds. He had wanted to rush in like the valiant knight and save his little boy from the pain. It physically hurt him to see his little boy crying and in pain and not able to do a thing about it……knowing Sherlock wanted that. He was daddy…..he was supposed to protect Sherlock from everything that hurt or scared him. Sherlock was precious…..he deserved to be protected and cared for, not beaten and demeaned. 

Why would he even want that? John’s stomach churned nervously as he thought about it. Sure, Sherlock had issues; who didn’t? And it was no big secret that Sherlock had a thing for authority. Contrary to his outward appearance, Sherlock desired dominance and being controlled. John had to only pull out his ‘captain voice’ for a few seconds before Sherlock dissolved into a puddle of goo. And no matter how much he would argue to the contrary, Sherlock had had a thing for The Woman. So he wouldn’t have been surprised to find Sherlock in a dominating situation sexually. In fact, he wished that was what he had walked in on. This……this was worse. 

John gave up on his coffee and walked down the street as slowly as possible to delay the inevitable. The wind blew coolly against his skin and he welcomed the physical pain to match his emotional pain. John knew what he had walked in on wasn’t about sex; if it had been John wouldn’t have had a problem with it. What bothered him was the nappy and dummy he had seen. Sherlock’s little side was not sexual at all; it was completely emotional and that was what hurt. Sherlock must have had some need, some deep emotional reason for doing what he had. A reason he didn’t want to share with John…….He thought that they shared everything but it was obvious to him now that they Sherlock didn’t see it that way. 

John wandered into his building but found himself just sitting at the edge of the stairs. What was he going to say when he went in there? Demand Sherlock tell him? Pretend he wasn’t really bothered by it? Act like nothing ever happened and comfort his baby from the obvious pain he was feeling. John hung his head as he pondered this impossible situation. This wasn’t at all how the night was supposed to go. He was supposed to be warm and cozy in his bed, secure in a nappy and holding his little boy tight. He wasn’t supposed to be sitting on the stairs, alone and fighting the very rare urge to cry. 

“John……is something wrong?” John was roused from his musings by Mrs. Hudson’s gentle voice. She had slipped in the door of the building and almost to her flat when she had seen him sitting there. She seemed so kind, so gentle; part of John’s heart urged him to run and not say anything, to brush it off like he usually did. But Mrs. Hudson was the only other person that knew of Sherlock’s little side. He could talk to her; she might even be able to help him in some way. He felt vulnerable and pained and completely weak. Luckily, Mrs. Hudson was so good she could sense it. 

“Why don’t you come in and have some tea?” Mrs. Hudson asked with a small smile. 

…….  
John sipped his tea, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat as he watched Mrs. Hudson’s face as she took in his small rant. Mrs. Hudson had known about Sherlock’s little side for a while now; she was a large part of it. While John was Sherlock’s daddy figure, Mrs. Hudson had filled in his need for a mother figure. He felt comfortable talking with her about it. He had given her the rundown of the incident in the flat, as delicately as possible. While Mrs. Hudson was very understanding of their situation, John knew that Sherlock would still be horribly embarrassed if he had told her all the nasty details of the situation. 

Mrs. Hudson gave John a sympathetic glance as she took in the information. “John, dear…..have you stopped to consider this whole situation may be……a sexual thing?” she asked delicately. 

John felt the sick sensation in his stomach again. “Yeah, I did” he said regrettably. “But that’s the problem. I know it isn’t like that; Sherlock’s little side is not like that at all. And even if it was, it wouldn’t bother me.”

Mrs. Hudson raised an eye brow. “Really, John?” she asked unconvinced. “It wouldn’t bother you at all?” 

John felt his cheeks flush. “Really……it’s not like that with Sherlock and me” he said, feeling the blush spread across his face. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if it was” Mrs. Hudson said, “Perhaps you just don’t recognize those feelings yet”

John and Sherlock had been so close for so long that he had not had much occasion to be jealous of someone else spending time with him. He had felt a blinding, almost predatory jealous when he had picked Sherlock up from a bar following a bad day. He’d been drunk with numerous women hanging off of him and John had swooped in to intervene. But that was different; he had done it because he knew that Sherlock wouldn’t make those mistakes sober. Besides, he’d been emotionally compromised then and it had been John’s job to step in and protect him. This was the same now; John knew something had to be going on. 

“That’s not the point” John said, hurrying to get away from this sketchy topic. “What bothers me isn’t sex at all…….it’s the……” John felt his voice crack just thinking about it and Mrs. Hudson gave him a sympathetic glance, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. 

“It’s the baby stuff, isn’t it?” Mrs. Hudson supplied for him sympathetically. 

John nodded, a lump in his throat. He was in the army, he considered himself a tough guy; but one betrayal from Sherlock and he was dangerously close to weeping. “I thought what we had was something special…..something only we shared.” John said, swallowing hard. 

“Oh John, it is” Mrs. Hudson said quickly. “What you and Sherlock have can’t be compared to anything else. I’ve never seen any two people as close as you two.”

“Well, we can’t be that close if Sherlock will just share that part of him with a complete stranger” John said his voice taking on a bitter note. 

“You have to talk to him” Mrs. Hudson insisted. “I’m sure there has to be an explanation to what happened.”

“I’m not sure I want to know the explanation” John said, feeling despair run through him. He didn’t want to know Sherlock had some need, some part of his little side that he couldn’t share with him. He didn’t want them to be back to the kind of relationship where they couldn’t tell each other everything. It was the best part of finding out Sherlock’s little side; they had become closer in every way possible. 

“You’ll work through this, I’m sure of it. You two always do” Mrs. Hudson enthused. 

Though their discussion hadn’t really solved anything, John felt slightly better as he walked up the stairs to the flat that he shared with Sherlock. Steeling himself for what he might find on the other side of the door, John pushed it open, taking a deep breath. 

When he stepped into the flat he found Sherlock sitting on the couch, clad in his adult pyjamas and dressing gown. His hair was wet and tousled, freshly washed but his eyes still had red circles around them from tears. Instinctively, John knew he wasn’t wearing a nappy and he didn’t appear to be little in anyway. He was just sitting there, his eyes downcast and sorrowful. Shame wafted off of him like a wave, only confirming to John that he had something to be guilty about. When John entered the room, Sherlock looked at him briefly but didn’t make a move to explain himself. 

John walked over to Sherlock, standing in front of him. He knew if he didn’t say something now, he would lose his nerve and do nothing. Sherlock looked up at him, cringing slightly. “Well, what do you have to say?” John asked, trying to control the anger and hurt in his voice. 

Sherlock ran his hand through his curls in frustration, his face turning red at the simple question but he didn’t say anything. John wasn’t really surprised; while Sherlock had made considerable strides in sharing is feeling, he still struggled with it when not in little space. “You better say something, Sherlock because I don’t understand” John went on when Sherlock didn’t say anything. 

Sherlock swallowed visibly, his eyes appearing to redden as he struggled with composure. “John……I haven’t seen you in days. Can’t we just do this later?” he asked, his voice heavy with emotion. 

John almost faltered. He missed Sherlock, so much. He hadn’t seen him in days and all he really wanted to do was to hug him, to hold him close. He wanted to make sure that Sherlock was okay. He often forgot to eat, to drink or sleep when he was alone and it was obvious by what he had seen that Sherlock was obviously upset by something. But he couldn’t just comfort him and not say anything. How could he help him when he didn’t know what the problem was? 

“Actually we can’t do this later” John insisted, crossing his arms. “Because I know we won’t do it later. You’ll just brush this off and never talk about it and I need to talk about it.”  
“Why?” Sherlock asked, his voice slightly shrill. “Why do you need to talk about it? And why does it have to be right this second?”

“Because what I saw, what I just walked in on……I don’t understand what that was all about and I need to” John said, letting his concern and worry fill his words and hopefully speak to Sherlock how deeply he needed to know what was going on. 

“You really don’t need to know” Sherlock said, desperation and darkness creeping into his eyes. 

“Why not?!”John thundered, confusion filling every part of him. 

“Because it doesn’t concern you!” Sherlock burst out. 

John was so taken aback that he knew that it showed but he didn’t care. It was the worst reply that he could have imagined receiving from Sherlock on the subject and it was exactly what had happened. It didn’t matter to John why Sherlock did it……all he cared about was that Sherlock felt open enough to tell him the truth. But he didn’t. Whatever it was, Sherlock believed that John had no place in it. John had given Sherlock everything of himself; there was no one on Earth he considered himself closer to. But it was obvious that Sherlock didn’t share that sentiment and it hurt John deeper than he had been hurt in a very long time. 

“Oh, well, excuse me” John said, his words dripping sarcasm and hurt like poison. “I was under the impression that we were in some kind of relationship. But if we’re not sharing everything I guess we’re not, my mistake.” 

Sherlock cringed. “John…..it’s not like that” he started. “It’s just nothing you need to know. It’s really nothing to cry about.”

John wiped at his eyes, angry that the tears had given away, angry that it made it looked like he cared so much. He’d been wrong to trust Sherlock with so much and all it did was make him look like the fool…..again. He was the one hurt, the one that bloody felt so much and Sherlock had the audacity to tell him that he shouldn’t be crying about it? “Fuck you” John shouted, pouring anger into how words to cover up his embarrassing tears. 

“Excuse me?” Sherlock asked, jumping slightly at the rare John curse directed at him. 

“You heard me!” John shouted, glad to be yelling, anything to get out the emotion inside of him. “I said fuck you and I meant it! Don’t tell me how to feel about this! Just because you have absolutely no feelings doesn’t mean you have the right to make me act like I don’t!

“I feel things” Sherlock defended, though he appeared disturbed at his admission. “How could you even say that?”

“I thought what we had mattered, that’s what’s so disturbing about all of this” John powered on, unable to stop now that he had gotten going. “I thought you entrusted only me with the little side of you and that meant something to me. But it doesn’t, does it?” John wiped at more tears, completely disgusted with himself that he couldn’t stop them. 

“John, you’re blowing this whole thing completely out of proportion” Sherlock said calmly, trying to calm John down. All it did was further enrage him. He really didn’t see that he’d done anything wrong. 

“And you know the bloody worst part?” John asked, his voice cracking “The worst part of all of this is that I completely, genuinely love you, you heartless bastard.” 

Sherlock, for once in his entire life, was speechless. John took the opportunity to flee from the room and hide himself away in his bedroom before he gathered his senses and could say something else hurtful.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours later, John still lay awake in bed. He was exhausted; surely dawn would be coming soon. But no matter how tired he was, things were not alright in his world and he simply couldn’t fall asleep. His bed was cold, too big….lonely. Sherlock should have been there and his absence only reminded John things were wrong. John had slept poorly all week in the hotel because he was so unaccustomed to sleeping alone; sleeping alone in his own bed was worse. It only ever happened when something was wrong between him and Sherlock. 

John hadn’t meant for the conversation to go so hostilely; he’d just been so hurt and emotional that he’d accused him and he knew he shouldn’t have. Sherlock was hurting, that much he knew. Being little was something deeply emotional and personal for him and for him to mix that with heavy domination and beating spoke of something being very wrong emotionally. The fact that Sherlock didn’t feel he could share whatever was troubling him with John made John feel like a failure; when had ever given Sherlock the idea that he was anything other than understanding and caring? As John lay in the dark, he began to consider the worst. How long had this been going on? If John had arrived one day later he would never even have known about it now; it was obvious that Sherlock wasn’t just going to bring it up. John felt a lump in his throat again; maybe he’d been sharing Sherlock all along. 

John had finally almost found sleep when he felt something move beside him, close and warm. His sleep addled brain took several minutes to realize the hands wrapping around him and pulling him close, the curls against his cheek, the face in the crook of his neck were not part of a dream but were real. Sherlock had crawled in bed alongside him and though part of him desperately wanted to drift off to sleep and let this be alright, he knew that he couldn’t do that. If he and Sherlock developed the kind of relationship where it was alright to keep secrets from each other, they would never be close again. 

“What are you doing, Sherlock?” John asked, not looking at the younger man as he squeezed him tightly, desperately. 

“I want to sleep with you……I don’t want to be alone” Sherlock said, sorrow full in his voice. They were making breakthroughs but it was still unusual and slightly thrilling when adult Sherlock showed such a need and attachment to John. It was a new development; that their closeness in age play had affected every part of their relationship and made them closer all around. John wanted nothing more than to keep cultivating that relationship, growing closer together not further apart. 

“Are you ready to tell me what I walked in on earlier?” John asked, hopeful but cautious. He had some small shred of optimism in him that in the dark of the night Sherlock might feel more comfortable to open up about what had happened. 

There was a long, painful pause. “I…..cant” Sherlock said finally, his voice cracking. 

“Sherlock…..I know you’re hurting. There’s something wrong…..please tell me what it is” John begged him. It killed him to know that Sherlock was in pain, suffering and that he couldn’t tell John. All John ever wanted was to take away all of Sherlock’s every ache and pain. 

“I can’t John, I just can’t” Sherlock said in a pained voice. “It would change the way you think of me and I can’t bear that.”

John clenched his eyes shut, feeling a wave of pain wash over him. “Sherlock, nothing could make me see you as anything less. I meant what I said earlier……I do love you. Nothing can ever change that.” While John had told Sherlock he’d loved him before, it was not something they casually tossed out. It meant something. John loved Sherlock in so many ways and nothing could ever make him not love him. He just wanted to fix this; it was his job to make it all better. 

All John wanted was for Sherlock to say it back. All he wanted was for Sherlock to say that he loved him too and tell him what was wrong so he could make it better. But he didn’t. 

“I’m sorry, John. I just can’t” Sherlock said. His voice was sad but there was a kind of finality in it. John knew the conversation was over. 

“Go back to bed, Sherlock” John said, his whole body stiffening as his voice came out hollow and hurt. If this was the way it was going to be, he would have to grow a thick skin. 

Sherlock was taken aback. “What? Why?” he asked. 

“I can’t do this, Sherlock” John said. “You hurt me and you won’t tell me why. So go……if you can’t be honest with me, then leave.” It pained John down to his core to send his baby away when he was hurting. He had to remind himself that he was hurt too and it was alright to have feelings too. His feelings were just as valid as Sherlock’s and he couldn’t feel anything other than pain right now. 

Sherlock took in a deep breath as if to argue his point, but thought better of it. John felt the bed shift and instantly get colder as Sherlock got out of bed and slipped out of the room without another word. 

…….  
John woke up late the next morning, his stomach instantly churning from anxiety. He hadn’t slept well and he could already tell his morning was off to a bad start before he’d even dressed. With his stomach aching, he’d set off toward the kitchen for tea, nervous about an encounter with Sherlock. He found his worries were unfounded; it was quiet and empty in the flat. Sherlock had likely gone to work but the fact that he didn’t take John with him further accented their growing distance. Too anxious to eat, John simply made tea and sat down at the table to drink it. One of Sherlock’s dummies was sitting on the table and John found himself twirling it around with his finger, lost in thought. It was a blue pirate dummy, one John had given him. In fact, it was the very first dummy John had ever given him. He noticed a small hole on the end, showing its age and Sherlock’s tendency to chew his dummies rather than suck on them when he was nervous. It was still wet and John felt a pang at the thought that Sherlock might have been worrying with it before he left. 

John had never doubted that his growing dependence on Sherlock was a bad thing. His feelings had alarmed him in the beginning; he’d been unprepared for how deeply he wanted to be with Sherlock and share his little side with him. But after realizing that it was alright to care for him so much and realizing that it was okay to stop trying to label what they were to each other, he’d always seen their extreme dependence on each other as a good thing. They worked better together, fought less and were just in general happier than they’d been before. It made their absences from each other much more painful but even that was usually a good thing. It made their comings together all that sweeter. 

But as John sat there, clutching a dummy for dear life, feeling like a pit was opening up inside his chest, he wondered if they hadn’t gotten too attached. John was so broken up about the idea that there might some vestige of secrecy, some part of himself that Sherlock hadn’t shared that he felt almost incapable of carrying on and that was unhealthy. But as soon as the idea came into his head, it was dashed away. He wouldn’t go back if he could; their relationship as it was was worth fighting for. 

When John had finished his tea and taken a shower to find that Sherlock still hadn’t returned or tried to contact him, John tried to call him. He couldn’t let this go on; he knew they had to talk about this if anything was going to be made right again. He didn’t get a response so he sent a text. 

Sherlock……please come home or call me. We need to talk…..I want to make this right- JW

John wasn’t expecting to get a text back from him so soon; he leapt at his mobile when it buzzed with a text but felt his hope drop quickly when he saw the response. 

I’m working a case right now-SH

Not only did he make no motion at all to acknowledge that they needed to talk, he had actually went on a case and not brought John along. Feeling desperation, John texted him back. 

Daddy just wants to take care of his little boy. Please come home so daddy can take care of you-JW

John hoped desperately that subtly reminding him that he was just his daddy that wanted to care for him might pull at Sherlock’s emotions. This time it took longer for Sherlock to respond. 

I can’t come home right now, I’m at a crime scene-SH

John took this as a better sign; at least he wasn’t trying to argue back. Well, when you do get done please don’t go anywhere else. Just come home. Daddy misses cuddles with his baby boy.-JW

John knew it was a long stretch, appealing to Sherlock’s little side when he was working and obviously not in a little mindset but it was all that he had. He knew it was the only way to soften Sherlock’s tough exterior. It was a full ten minutes before Sherlock texted back. 

I’ve been a very, very bad boy-SH 

John felt his stomach tighten. As angry and hurt as he was at Sherlock’s keeping things from him, first and foremost he was Sherlock’s daddy and he couldn’t stand to see him in such silent pain. Sherlock had a tendency for self-harm and self-punishment; something had pushed him to punish himself even further and it hurt John. He couldn’t have Sherlock thinking he was a terrible person. 

We all do things we aren’t proud of but that doesn’t change who we are. No matter what has happened I only want to help you. I swear I won’t judge you, Sherlock. I just bloody miss you and want things to be alright. Let me help you-JW

John waited and waited for a text, sitting anxiously on the couch but Sherlock never texted him back. It didn’t really surprise him; Sherlock had let just enough of his emotions show to make him uncomfortable and want to pull away. But that didn’t stop John from being disappointed and worrying about how he was doing all day. 

Since Sherlock had left the flat in his usual state of disarray while John had been away so John spent the day cleaning. Usually, he would have been slightly miffed about Sherlock’s complete disregard for personal care and cleanliness, even though he knew part of him couldn’t help it. But this time, he was grateful to have so much to do to keep his hands busy. It helped keep his errant thoughts at bay. 

John had washed all of the dishes, swept the floor, picked up batches of clothes and toys and cleaned the bathroom when there was a knock at the front door. John left his cleaning supplies on the table and went to answer the door, not surprised to see Mrs. Hudson. He had surprised that she hadn’t shown up to check on them after his conversation with her the previous night. 

“I was cleaning up a bit and found a few of Sherlock’s things” she said, handing John an Iron Man action figure and a black dummy with a skull on it. She looked around the flat. “Is he around?”

John took the items with a sigh. “No……Sherlock’s not here right now” He only realized after he said it how defeated and sad his voice sounded. 

Mrs. Hudson gave him a sympathetic look. “I take it you two haven’t patched things up yet?” she asked. 

John shook his head. “I did try to talk to him about it but he refused to tell me anything” he said, “He left for the station today before I had a chance to try again. I really don’t know if he’s going to tell me anything. He seems pretty intent on keeping it secret.”

“Sherlock’s so personal, so private” Mrs. Hudson said, “but he always comes around for you. He might take a while, but it’s always worth it when he does”

John gave her a small smile back. “You know, Mrs. Hudson, I’m really glad you found out about Sherlock’s small side” he said truthfully. It was so much easier now that he had someone to talk to about he and Sherlock’s numerous issues, someone who he could be fully honest with. 

Mrs. Hudson reached over and gave John a tight hug. “Me too” she said. 

………  
It was late when Sherlock finally returned to the flat. John had cleaned the flat to a sparkling clean like it hadn’t known in years, had had dinner and was beginning his third movie on the couch when Sherlock finally came sweeping into the flat. He tossed off his coat and went instantly into the kitchen to make a cup of tea without a word to John. When he dashed from the kitchen and made off toward his room, John had to put a stop to it. 

“Sherlock……we’re going to talk. Get back here.”

Sherlock stopped instantly in the hallway, his back to John. “Not right now……I’ve…..had a long day” Sherlock tried to argue. 

John got off of the couch and walked up behind Sherlock. Taking a chance, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pulled him close. Burying his face in Sherlock’s back and soaking in as much as warmth as he could before Sherlock pulled away, John said, “Please, Sherlock……please” It was so heartfelt, so intimate……John was still unused to and a little unsure about expressing himself so emotionally when Sherlock wasn’t little. He was sure Sherlock would pull away. But he didn’t. 

“You’ll be so disappointed in me, John” Sherlock said, his voice sad and shamed. He didn’t make a move to look at John or to move away. 

“I won’t…..I promise” John beseeched. He paused carefully. “This wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Sherlock hung his head, shaking it so violently that his curls shook. John tried to ignore the pain in his stomach at the revelation. How long had this been going on? John wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. “Why?” John asked, his voice cracking even though he tried desperately for it not to. “Why do you feel the need to do this? If it was just……a sex thing…..I could understand that. But the baby stuff…….don’t you have me for that?” Aren’t I good enough? John silently asked himself. 

John was prepared for Sherlock to defend himself, to yell or scream or run away. He wasn’t prepared for him to start crying. Not even crying but sobbing; Sherlock’s whole body shook as he sobbed uncontrollably. 

John was so surprised by it that he didn’t know what to do at first. It was so unusual for Sherlock to cry in front of him when he wasn’t acting little, much less completely break down. His worry for his flatmate increased exponentially. 

“Sherlock…..Sherlock…..what is it?” John asked in alarm as Sherlock’s sobs got worse rather than slow down. 

When Sherlock didn’t answer and didn’t make any motion to stop crying, John detached his arms from around him and slowly led him over to the couch. The second that he had sat on the couch, Sherlock curled up in John’s lap weeping until John could feel a growing patch of tear wetness on his shirt. John was at a loss; he didn’t the only thing that he could think of and ran his fingers gently through Sherlock’s hair as he cried.

It was a long time before Sherlock finally calmed down; it was common for Sherlock, at least in little space, to hold in his emotions for so long that they built up until they came out in an emotional outburst. John hopped that was the reason for this seemingly massive buildup; the only other alternative was believing that something terrible must have really happened. 

“Talk to me, Sherlock. Tell me what’s going on......"


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock got up off of John’s lap and came to sit next to him. He wiped at his red eyes with the back of his hand and looked at John with a sorrowful, shameful and completely miserable expression. “I used again.” He said, self-loathing dripping from his words. 

John felt his stomach drop like a weight had been tossed inside of it. Sherlock, who’d gone so long without using drugs, had fallen. John felt instant guilt; had Sherlock done this because John had left him? Had it been too long of an absence? Was Sherlock’s loneliness the cause of him looking for drugs? John swallowed down all of these questions; Sherlock was finally talking to him and the last thing he needed to see from John was judgment. “Heroin or cocaine?” John asked, his medical brain taking over. He wanted to know what exactly he needed to expect in the next couple of days. He wanted to know what he’d need to take care of his little boy. 

“Heroin” Sherlock said, hanging his head. Gathering speed, he rushed quickly to say, “It was just once…..I’m sorry. I really am, I know it was terrible”

Feeling nothing but sympathy toward Sherlock, John leaned over and hugged him. John wasn’t sure how any of this had anything to do with the incident that he had walked in on but it was obvious Sherlock was feeling unimaginable pain. He had not only leaned on his old crutch of using drugs to quiet some pain he was facing, but he was now suffering with terrible guilt that he didn’t need to have. 

“Shhh……I’m not mad and I’m not disappointed” John assured him. “I’m just worried” John pulled back so that he could look at Sherlock. “What made you do it?” 

Sherlock looked away for a long moment, obviously reluctant to speak. “It was just the worry and the thoughts…..all rushing too fast and I was alone. There was nothing to make it stop and I just wanted peace.” 

Sherlock had used his littleness as a way to cope with his urges for a long time. Not only did being little help him feel secure and loved, it was a way for his overactive brain to take a break. While Sherlock could still be little on his own, he’d had John to rely on that for so long. Being little on your own wasn’t the same thing as actually having someone to care for you like a child. While Sherlock wasn’t blaming him, John felt some responsibility for Sherlock’s falling back. He knew this wasn’t healthy and that he and Sherlock had to come to a point where they could function without each other when they had to but right now Sherlock had been left alone with his thoughts and no safety net and John just felt guilt. 

John didn’t want to dwell on the drugs; it would only make Sherlock feel guiltier. He’d had a drug problem for years and while he’d been clean for a long time, it was still hard to break old habits. Besides, there was another question nagging in the back of his mind. “I’m glad you told me” John assured Sherlock. “ I know that wasn’t easy for you to do and I’m glad you were so brave. I’m sorry that you felt so alone and overwhelmed that you had to lean on drugs. But it’s okay; you made a mistake but we all make mistakes” John paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase what he wanted to say next. “Sherlock…..when I questioned you about what happened yesterday, you told me about you using drugs. Is there some sort of connection between the two? I just want to understand.”

Sherlock blew out a long breath, his face turning slightly pale as he ran a hand through his long locks. “John……do I really need to tell you about that? It’s too…….embarrassing.”

Part of John just wanted to give in; Sherlock had been partially honest and he wanted to run with that. But he was strong and didn’t. “Sherlock, we have a relationship like no one else” John started, “You’ve save my life countless times, we’ve been kidnapped together. We sleep in the same bed, we change each other’s nappies……how could anything possibly be so embarrassing that you couldn’t share it with me?” 

Sherlock looked down at his lap, focusing on interlacing his fingers. “There are things that you can’t give me, John” he said carefully. 

John felt like he had been punched in the stomach; he didn’t want to believe that there was anything that he couldn’t give Sherlock. He’d lived the past two years giving him everything he ever needed. But John had to remind himself to be fair; it wasn’t that long ago that he’d been telling Sherlock that exact same thing. When he had started to date again, John had had to tell Sherlock that there were simply some things that he couldn’t give him. “You mean sex?” John asked, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. Hurt? Where the hell did that come from? 

“What? No, god no” Sherlock said quickly. “Nothing like that. I meant……punishment”

Confusion dawned on John. “What?” he asked. 

Sherlock sighed in frustration. “Punishment. When I do something really stupid……I need to be punished. I make idiotic mistakes and I deserve to be punished. What you walked in on was my punishment for failing……for doing what I did.”

Finally, it all made sense to John. It didn’t make good sense; it was all really messed up. But he could see it. Sherlock had always had a lot of guilt and lower self-worth. He’d had a history of drug use to cope with his problems and had struggled with self-harm for many years. He harbored all of this guilt and he usually dealt with it in unhealthy ways. So, it made complete sense he’d want someone to punish him. There were days when Sherlock struggled with emotions and he purposely tested John so he would spank him or punish him in other ways. But this……this was on a new level. It made sense to John now why Sherlock looked so miserable during the beating; he was miserable. Having to wear his dirty nappy for an extended period, being gagged and unable to speak, being beaten all the while being told he deserved it all because he was so terrible…..it was horribly embarrassing. But some part of Sherlock needed it. John didn’t want to make it seem like Sherlock’s needs were weird. But the idea of someone intentionally hurting his baby boy tore him to pieces inside. He had to find another way to help him. 

“If this is something that you feel you need, why didn’t you ask me to do it?” John asked. He would have said no, maybe Sherlock knew that. But it still would have been nice to be asked rather than to have it have been a dirty secret. 

Taking John completely by surprise, Sherlock gave a small laugh. “John, really?” he asked in disbelief. 

“What?” John asked. He thought it was a pretty reasonable thing to say. 

“John, you can’t be that stern” Sherlock explained. 

John was slightly taken aback. “I can be very stern. I was in the army…..and I think I do a very good job of being a firm daddy to you.” Sherlock had made it very clear in the beginning of their age play together that he needed someone who was firm, who had defined rules and consequences because he would, and often did, test them. He thought he had done a good job; this incident made him doubt that he had. 

“You do, John” Sherlock said calmly. “You’re great at being a tough daddy figure. You know your captain’s voice alone is enough to make me cave half of the time. But you care about me”

John frowned. “Of course I care about you”

“See, that’s the problem” Sherlock said, “Sometimes I do something really, really bad and I need to feel it. I need to feel shame, I need to feel pain. And you love me too much to make me feel those things. I saw the look on your face when you walked in yesterday.”

When it was put into those terms, it all made sense to John. If Sherlock genuinely thought he needed someone that would hurt him and make him feel terrible about himself, then that was something that John couldn’t give him. Because John cared so much for Sherlock; he thought he should be treasured and taken care of above all else. “I don’t want you doing this” John said, his voice saddened by the fact that Sherlock really believed that he should be treated this way. 

Sherlock smiled sadly at John. Surprising him, he leaned over and gave John a strong hug. “I know, John” he said, “I’ll try to work on it.” 

…….  
Even though John was alarmed by the answers that Sherlock had given him, he was glad that he was able to get the truth out of him. He was glad that things could go back to being normal. After more than a week away from him, John was more than relieved to be able to not have to sleep alone. He craved touch, the simple feeling of Sherlock’s warm body pressed against his own, the feel of his curls against his face as he went to sleep……it was something he’d gone for so long without and now knew he could never live without it. A week alone was enough to make his heart feel like it was aching. 

John had dressed in his pyjamas and was on his way to slip into Sherlock’s room when he found him in the bathroom instead, leaning over the toilet with shaky hands, vomiting profusely. John’s heart wrenched inside of him; withdrawal. He had seen it before and he knew Sherlock would have a rough night if not the next couple of days. It had been long before they had started age play the last time John had tried to nurse Sherlock through a drug withdrawal. He had always pushed him away. This time, he could care for him the way that he wanted. As hard as John knew it would be for him, at least he had the comfort of knowing that he could give Sherlock as much support as possible. 

Sherlock threw up, his whole body shaking until nothing more would come out. He leaned against the bathroom wall, pulling his dressing gown around him as he shuddered. Cold sweat covered his face, mucus running down from his nose; he looked miserable. John hated that Sherlock felt the need to punish himself; this was obviously punishment enough. 

John walked into the bathroom, grabbed a flannel and got it wet to clean Sherlock up. He sat down on the floor next to Sherlock, pulling the younger man to himself. He wiped off Sherlock’s face and nose, feeling sorrow fill his heart when he saw his lip tremble slightly. John put his arms around Sherlock and pulled him against him. He felt simultaneously hot and cold, his whole form jolting from the shock of coming off the drugs. 

“You…..don’t…..have to…..take care…..of….me” Sherlock said through chattering teeth. 

Sherlock would never push John’s attentions away now that he knew of his little side; it was only because he had brought this pain on himself that he felt he deserved it and that John shouldn’t help him. “Nonsense” John said dismissively. “I’ve missed you and you’re not getting rid of me.”

“But…..I’m……ill” Sherlock argued weakly. 

“Well, good thing I’m a doctor then” John said. He was leaving no area for argument. He was going nowhere and he was going to do everything in his power to make Sherlock feel he didn’t need to punish himself for using drugs. 

“Come on, let’s get you more comfortable” John insisted, standing up and helping Sherlock to stand up. Knowing neither would get much sleep with Sherlock in this state and that he would need plenty of things throughout the night, John helped Sherlock to the couch instead of the bed. He wrapped a blanket around Sherlock, turned the telly on to one of the few channels that Sherlock would watch and grabbed the bin from the kitchen and placed it next to the couch it Sherlock should need it. 

“I’ll be right back” John told Sherlock before disappearing into the kitchen. Since he knew Sherlock would need to keep hydrated since he was vomiting, he began to fill up Sherlock’s red and blue train sippy cup with juice. While water was better, Sherlock hated drinking water and would consume more fluids with juice. The sippy cup would also help. 

When John returned to the sitting room, Sherlock was already leaning over the bin retching again, nothing but bile coming up. When he had stopped, John handed him the cup and he gladly took a long drink from it. 

When John sat down next to Sherlock on the couch, he laid back so that he could lean Sherlock against his chest, putting his arms around him. Sherlock sucked on the sippy cup, it making a whistling sound in the quiet of the room. Sherlock became still, only to begin shaking again. 

“You’re miserable, aren’t you?” John said sympathetically, brushing Sherlock’s sweaty curls out of his face. 

“I deserve to be” Sherlock said in the same self-depreciating voice he had used earlier. John couldn’t let it stand. 

“No you don’t, Sherlock” John insisted. “You don’t deserve to be sick or in pain or miserable” He could see disbelief cross Sherlock’s face. “You know what you do deserve though?” 

Sherlock’s curiosity was piqued at this. “What?” he asked, turning his head to look at John. 

John smiled at him. “You deserve hugs” he said, squeezing him tight to himself. “And you deserve kisses” He placed gentle kisses on Sherlock’s temple, forehead and cheek. “And you deserve be cuddled” He turned Sherlock so that his was laying stomach to stomach with John, his head on John’s shoulder, looking up at him while he played with his hair. Sherlock’s big eyes were glassy as he gazed up at John. 

“Sherlock, you deserve only good thing because you are a smart, amazing and caring person” John said. “Big or little, I like everything about you.”

“Everything?” Sherlock asked playfully with a raised eyebrow. 

“Even when you’re being an insufferable ass, I still like you” John said with a smile. “And that’s why it hurt me so much to watch someone hurting you. Because you are strong but I know you’re vulnerable too and you need to be handled with care. And only I do that”

Sherlock’s eyes widened even more, looking so shiny they might just spill out. “I like being yours……I want to be yours always” Sherlock said, his voice thick with emotion. There was so much meaning behind Sherlock’s words, so much that he didn’t say. It hung there, both knowing that it was there but neither wanting to fully acknowledge it. They both had woven themselves into each other so deeply that they couldn’t possibly ever be owned by someone else. John had known it for a while but he hadn’t really acknowledged it yet. 

“I like you being mine” John said, his voice so quiet he was afraid for anyone to hear it. Without even really thinking about it, John ran his hand through the side of Sherlock’s hair, leaned down and kissed Sherlock gently on the lips. It was chaste, small, innocent……but it was the first time they had ever kissed on the lips when they were both big. 

When John pulled back, he could see the look of surprise on Sherlock’s face. He stared at John for several long seconds, speechless. Eventually he found his tongue. “I taste bloody awful right now” he said, laughing slightly. It eased the tension but he could tell it was a nervous laugh. 

Spurned on to prove him wrong and driven by the fact that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, John leaned in again for another small kiss. “You are just perfect right now” John said with a smile. And he completely, totally meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another installment in Little Sherlock and John's lives, hope you enjoyed it! Comment and let me know what you thought. More to come soon; I have at least ideas for two more stories planned and I'm always open to your suggestions :) Thanks for reading everyone, stay little :D


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